


the same hell as you

by ammunitionist



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Love Through Service, M/M, Tenderness, Unresolved Sexual Tension, man its just hillbilly being a dumb faggot, really really not sure how to tag this but here we go:, vague mentions of war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ammunitionist/pseuds/ammunitionist
Summary: “You gonna let that go to waste?” Ack Ack asks bemusedly, gesturing vaguely at Hillbilly’s drink. “You know, I went through hell to get it.”“Sorry, sir,” Eddie says on reflex, immediately bringing the can to his lips. Andy chuckles quietly.“Easy, soldier,” he replies gently. “It’s the same hell as you.”or, hillbilly has contented himself with service.ack ack, for one, absolutely cannot stand by that.
Relationships: Andrew A. "Ack-Ack" Haldane/Edward "Hillbilly" Jones
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	the same hell as you

**Author's Note:**

> hullo! this Whole Entire Fic is inspired by [a single post](https://hillbillied.tumblr.com/post/627667374506737664/transbucky-idk-how-to-describe-this-properly-but) i saw on tumblr that subsequently consumed my tiny little brain. i think i told my boyfriend verbatim that this was 'the first time i ever felt something for the pacific characters'. that aside, pls enjoy!

It’s fidelity.

That’s what it is, he swears, between moments of uncertainty and moments where there’s no  _ time  _ for uncertainty. Fealty is what holds a man together in places like this,  _ I will follow you anywhere  _ ricocheting around inside his skull in the place of a rifle round. 

It has nothing to do with the captain’s bars pinned unceremoniously to his broad shoulders. They’re tarnished and splattered with mud anyway, and no one needs to look at them to know who fuckin’  _ Captain Haldane  _ is. Sometimes it’s all Hillbilly can do to hold back an indignant grunt when some of the NCOs make a passing comment at Ack Ack’s expense, even though he knows it’s all in good faith and none of them mean a word of malice against him. What borders on defensiveness is really just loyalty, or so he says. This man’s army is built to engender loyalty. He’s just following orders.    
_ Orders.  _

They barely feel like that sometimes. Ack Ack has this way with words that Eddie can’t hardly begin to describe, like every sentence he speaks carries equal parts forgiveness and solidity. He knows how to motivate men, how to take care of them without making it seem like a hospice bouquet. No one feels like they’re dying when Captain Haldane pitches a congenial quip their way, even though they all are- one way or another. Hillbilly does his best to pick up the slack, despite the fact there isn’t any. He wonders sometimes what cruel angel of God gave him a battlefield commission, but he wonders even harder after what gentle one put him down with Andy. He makes it _ painfully easy _ to follow, and so Eddie is more than happy to pick up his sword and die with him on any hill, for any cause. 

His quiet loyalty becomes more than it should be faster than he thought possible. Shame isn’t quite the word, and fear isn’t either, but Hillbilly can’t reason out the right term without a dictionary so he gives up. Putting a name on it won’t make him stop feeling it anyway. He knows, with a quiet resignation, that it will never be the time to admit it, so he never bothers to pierce the surface and wrangle with the emotions below. He’s fucked other men, and he’s fucked other men while in the Marines, but nothing like this had ever happened- he’d never  _ felt  _ so much, so intensely.

Eddie’s never foggy on what the feeling itself is, though. What the allegiance has evolved into is no mystery, not to him. He’s not a young man. No amount of naivete left in his system can refute what it’s become. He almost doesn't  _ want _ to- it’s exhausting to live in conscious denial, especially existing in such close proximity to its subject. 

It doesn’t help, of course, that Andy is so damn  _ perfect  _ about everything. He never falters, never flinches at Eddie’s screwups. Hillbilly can’t honestly remember a time that Ack Ack was ever truly angry at him. He’s sure Andy’s been mad at someone at some point in his life, but he can’t quite come to picture it. Someone that good is more than worthy of the love Eddie can offer up, but he still does. Even if it takes the form of service for the rest of his life. Even if Ack Ack never sees it as anything other than the agreed upon above-and-beyond  _ curriculum vitae  _ of a United States Marine. Hillbilly never expects anything in return, not trusting in his luck nor God with something that ludicrous. It’s more than enough to kneel at his side and serve. 

He’s not used to the concept of drinking with the officers for weeks after his commission. They aren’t quite used to the idea of drinking with him, either, considering the fact that battlefield commissions are ranked below regular ones, which are in turn ranked below those idiot West Point lot. Eddie finds himself in a weird liminal; no longer what he was and not quite anything else yet.

It’s Captain Haldane who meets him there.

They’re on some goddamn island between the Canal and the mainland. That’s where they’ve been for months, and where they’ll most likely be for months more. The names are all foreign things, odd and clunky on his tongue, made worse by the fact that- as an officer- he’s supposed to be remembering them now. When someone asks him, he offers his best pronunciation, and they usually find it satisfactory. It’s not exactly like any of the boys have ups on him in the area of Jap geography. 

Eddie doesn’t make an effort to ostracize himself- it’s moreso he happens to find his way to the edge of a circle of officers one night, when they’re far enough from danger that command has okayed small fires. He doesn’t trust it; he can’t, but that doesn’t stop the other men from pulling matches and zippos from their packs and setting the jungle afire.

They’ve settled around a large blaze some of the enlisted men started, subsequently offering it to their superiors. No act of generosity, of course- Hillbilly guesses it was more of an opportunity to set more flammable objects alight. He prefers to be just out of earshot of the others, anyway- their topics of conversation land squarely in blasé and dip frequently into concupiscent. 

He’s picking at a loose thread on the hem of his fatigues when a body takes a seat to his right, heralded only by quiet footsteps and the faint jingle of dog tags. Eddie glances up at the same time Andy offers him a can of beer, something vile yet precious in this hell they’ve occupied. He takes it, slowly, popping the tab in habit. Ack Ack copies the motion and tips it towards him in a mock toast. Bewildered, Hillbilly mirrors him. 

They sit in silence, Eddie’s can hanging untouched between his knees. It feels almost too strange to drink with the Captain, their distance closing- and yet, still palpable. Unnoticing, Andy takes a sip and glances over, eyes lingering for a moment on Hillbilly’s hands. His fingers just barely cling to the rim of the can, its weight comparatively nothing to the heavy lifting the appendages have done in their time.

Flickering gold dances along his digits, a reflection of both the fire a few yards away and the tan the man’s accrued in the South Pacific sun.

“You gonna let that go to waste?” Ack Ack asks bemusedly, gesturing vaguely at Hillbilly’s drink. “You know, I went through hell to get it.”

“Sorry, sir,” Eddie says on reflex, immediately bringing the can to his lips. Andy chuckles quietly.

“Easy, soldier,” he replies gently. “It’s the same hell as you.”

They drink in silence for a few more moments, both gazing forward with apparent nonchalance. Hillbilly’s is, of course, completely and utterly fabricated, but what he can tell of Ack Ack’s seems natural enough. He blows a near-silent breath out through his teeth, forcing his body to relax. It barely helps. 

He chances a glimpse back at Ack Ack, coming up rigid when their eyes immediately connect. Andy’s are an incandescent shade of blue, the color of a clear sky, and they’ll be burned into Eddie’s mind until the day he dies. There’s no way he can look away without immediately coming off timid, so the stare lasts for what seems like eons as he fumbles for something to say.

“Thank y’- um, thank y’ for the beer, sir,” he finally comes up with, pitiful at best. “Awful kind of ye.” 

Andy smiles and nods, like it’s a given he’d offer Hillbilly a drink. “Wish I could do you better, really,” he says ruefully, swirling the liquid around inside the can. Eddie just barely picks up the hollow noise, his ears having been trained for even the faintest snap of a branch in the jungle for much too long. “You deserve better than this canned stuff.”

Hillbilly finds himself nearly unable to respond.

“We, uh, w’all do, sir.” he agrees, hiding his racing heartbeat with an innocuous readjustment of his fatigues. 

“No, Hillbilly, I mean you.” Andy says, and the way he speaks Eddie’s name sends some indescribable heat racing down his spine. Insistent, urgent, and temperate all at once. He says it like an accusation and a declaration, compounded upon itself like a beast created in the heart of a dying star. “You do better work than half the enlisted men and most of the officers. I think it’s ridiculous they took this  _ long  _ to promote you.”

Eddie flounders entirely in the praise, hoping to Hell and high water that the glow from the fire is enough to disguise his rapidly reddening face. His grip on the can tightens as he brings it to his lips, disguising the tightness in his throat with a small sip.

Underneath the overwhelming surprise, though, sneaking traces of guilt begin to writhe. Whatever Andy’s saying- though Eddie’s beyond inclined to believe him- has to come from somewhere ulterior. Hillbilly isn’t  _ worthy  _ of this, especially not from the captain. The beer turns sour over his tongue. 

“M’ sorry, Cap’n Haldane, I,” he begins, running his tongue over his teeth to banish the aftertaste of the alcohol. It’s cheap, so it lingers. “I can’t begin to get why y’r sayin’ all this t’ me.” 

Andy looks at him in mild confusion. 

“Because it’s true, Lieutenant,” he replies. “I would never lie to you.”

Eddie believes him. 

“I’m not implyin’ that, sir,” he protests immediately, stifling the momentary rise that tries to compel him to his feet. “I jus’- I don’t-“ 

Ack Ack puts his hand on his knee, and every single thing in the world shrinks down to Eddie’s flesh, Andy’s palm, and the agonizingly thin layer of cotton between them. It’s simultaneously so warm it hurts and not nearly warm enough, and it’s all Eddie can do to stop himself from leaning into it.

“You’re a good soldier, Jones,” Andy sighs, bringing the can to his mouth. “Better man, too, I’d guess.” He takes his hand off of Eddie’s knee, and time resumes.

“Y’ can just call me Eddie.” he mutters, against the lip of his own can. The offer feels too familiar, but it’s better than hearing Ack Ack call him Jones again. 

“Alright then, Eddie.” Andy says, a quick puff of air escaping his nose. He glances back at his lieutenant, the way his features sharpen in the firelight. 

There’s not a single other man he’d rather be in that spot. 

“I suppose since we’ve reached a first name basis, you wouldn’t mind walking with me?”

“T’where?” Eddie asks, even though it doesn’t matter at all.

Andy smiles at him. 

“Oh, just around,” he sighs, getting to his feet and offering a hand to his companion. “Not like we’ve got anywhere else to be.”

Hillbilly can’t help but smile down at the beer can, long since empty in his palm.

“Yessir,” he replies, taking the hand and letting Ack Ack pull him to his feet. 

“After you, sir.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hey there! thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed. comments are always, always appreciated, especially since i have no idea if this was even remotely decent.


End file.
